


In the Aftermath of Echoes

by Calesvol



Category: Venom (Comics), Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Mutual Pining, Other, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 17:13:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16748200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calesvol/pseuds/Calesvol
Summary: Eddie feels empty without Venom. Venom yearns for its host, but fears rejection. Sometimes, you can't see the bridge before you.





	In the Aftermath of Echoes

Warning(s): T, some gore mentions, animal death

* * *

Loneliness was just a fact of the human condition. You coped with it in either one of two ways: you found people to make the burden of it a little less, or you made yourself so numb; like plunging your hand into ice water and becoming uncannily used to it. Or was it, really? Today, it was increasingly true. As technology grew more sophisticated and social media enveloped more and more of peoples’ lives, thinking the greater world too dangerous to engage in beyond sheer necessity, or otherwise being the danger that alienated you from other people.

So, what happened you met a being that did the impossible? That completely dismantled those barriers and did what no person had truly achieved before?

Eddie still remembered that explosion, that fire. How he and Carlton Drake had fought contentiously, Riot and Venom a catastrophic mingling of chaos that could’ve devolved and destroyed itself if it wanted to. Through those hellion hours, he hadn’t thought about it.

He hadn’t thought beyond the next step, never anticipating when it was about survival. Eddie had grown immediately accustomed to the symbiote, never wondering what it did to the cavernous emptiness that was the human mind, the vast echo chamber that reflected one’s thoughts.

Several weeks after the explosion, Eddie awoke from an uneasy dream. He’d tossed the sheets from his head and lunged towards something sinewy in the darkness, demanding, “Who’s there!” and receiving only darkness in reply.

No deep, smoldering voice telling him he was its. No grinning chuckle to curl over his shoulders.

“Goddammit, I’m losin’ my fuckin’ mind,” Eddie Brock cursed under his breath as he glanced at his digital clock, feeling sweaty and clamminess crawl on his skin in drenching layers.

He wouldn’t be able to sleep that night. And what would be the point in trying?  

Throwing off the papery thin sheets, walking through the wet and perspiring humidity of his own home, days of being pent up and madly concentrated on the massive series of reports he was working on involving a deep, thorough expose on the Life Foundation that was taking weeks of his time at a time.

Stumbling into the shower, blindly cleansing himself, just as blindly did he stumble back into a pair of jeans, hoodie, and sneakers and out into the world of the witching hour in search what he knew not.

San Francisco Bay scintillated beautifully under the moonlight, the expanse of the Golden Gate Bridge the crowning glory of the view that dominated the sloping hill. To the convenience store he frequented did Eddie trudge towards, the route there feeling so much emptier without Maria. Was that how he was, now? Empty? Empty without the symbiote?

This struck him like lightning on the way to the convenience store, troubled by the thought. It followed him into the blinding white light, pursuing him relentlessly.

Mrs. Chen regarded him oddly, brows furrowing. “Mr. Brock, are you alright?” she queried, self-realization creeping in and realizing he was standing blankly before the few aisles there were.

The blond nodded apologetically. “I, uh—yeah. Sorry, Mrs. Chen. Jus’ kinda outta it since it’s so early and all. Workin’ overtime can do that to’a guy.”

She nodded in understanding. “Alright. I’ll be here if you need anything,” she replied with a kind, matronly smile.

Why did even this feel so far away? He smiled wearily. “Thanks, Mrs. Chen. Really appreciate it.” He got some nonsensical foodstuffs he couldn’t remember the labels to and paid for it in cash, mind working on autopilot as he made way into the dark streets again.

It weighed oppressively upon him, the dark. How interacting with other people didn’t feel human. How different it all was without his Other, the being that had taken that loneliness away and had devoured it whole, purring victoriously in his chest.

But, the hollow niche Venom had made was empty.

And it made him ache until he dunked himself totally in the bucket of ice water and stayed there.

* * *

In the days following the rocket explosion, disturbing reports had emerged. Those who cared to be privy to the local vermin population noticed a growing trend of rats and other small animals found dead increasingly. Local scientists speculated the appearance of an invasive species, errant CCTV footage confirming sight of a nebulous, ebony being they were calling some unrecorded species of serpent.

Serpents weren’t nearly as flexible, but it was all they were willing to peg it upon as not to incite panic.

This creature was slowly graduating on to larger prey animals, mainly those of a domestic variety. How long before a person was next? They didn’t want to say.

Wider audiences called it a conspiracy theory to account for unorthodox animal experimentation. Conspiracy theorists agreed it was some alien species from the bottom of the sea, God knowing what.

They didn’t know the symbiote’s mind, of the missing chemicals it was voracious for. That beyond even that, there was a deep and cloying hunger for something nameless its host had given it.

But, how was that even possible?

The Klyntar had been rejected by its own species. What had once been a peaceable race that bonded symbiotically with weaker creatures had become frenzied by a carnivorous and impersonal want for destruction. To take over hosts and leave a trail of spent corpses in their wake, ravaging planets until time to move unto another place to make desolate.

It never wanted that. It wanted to bond into something fulfilling.

Eddie Brock had changed it. Ravaging desire and hunger had filled the empty spaces Brock had left behind, making it hollow. The symbiote felt confused and hurt, even though nothing could be done when Eddie thought it dead.

But, why would he want it back?

In a torrid pall of silence did meditate in its crude lair of dead vermin that had amassed through the weeks, the stench of rot prevalent but still warm in a ghoulish way.

It wanted its host back. The loss consumed it, made its appetite for violence something thoughtless and wanton.

Human emotions, human loneliness, human yearning. Was this why it was so weak? Craving Eddie like a drug and wanting a hit but feared rejection.

A frenzied thought, one propelled by want: why not return to him? Why not _try_?

Why? Because rejection loomed like a reaper and their connection had been spontaneous, not truly choosing one another. This caused the symbiote to whimper in the dankness of the sewer it called home now, the lights on San Francisco Bay making it feel indescribably lonely and wretched.

Is that what it was called? Loneliness?

Shivering wretchedly, Venom coiled around itself in some vain semblance of contact, consumed by so much want that it ached and pounded in it like its former host’s heartbeat.

Venom tried to remember that heartbeat, that warmth.

And fitfully, still so terribly lonely, it attempted sleep.


End file.
